


An Unwanted Reunion

by cyanideinsomnia



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Biting, Blood As Lube, Blood and Injury, Bottom Julian Devorak, Choking, Ghost Goat Lucio (The Arcana), Ghost Sex, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Masochism, Mildly Dubious Consent, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Roughness, i don't know if it actually rapid heals him but im letting his ass get shredded so he deserves it, misuse of arcana power, the goat also has a tail bc i'm a furry, the goat has a dick in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideinsomnia/pseuds/cyanideinsomnia
Summary: The claws against his back sunk further in, a low growl in his mind.//Say my name, Jules. Say it.//
Relationships: Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	An Unwanted Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> takes place in book 7 of julian's route, just after goat boy rams into the ladder, and in the .2 seconds before jules was then dragged off to the library..... he decides to stay a lil longer :3c
> 
> rip mc, killed by julian's julianing at the WORST time

_ Wait… stay here a little longer…  _

Julian froze at the sudden voice in his head, somehow both cold and yearning, oddly familiar despite never having heard it before. He chanced a glance towards the apprentice, who was simply staring at him with concern and alarm - they hadn’t heard it?

Their arm was on his wrist, preparing to pull him away. But something inside him  _ wanted  _ to stay, that it would be utterly, viscerally  _ wrong _ if he didn’t.

He glanced towards the Countess, in the midst of letting his sister back to the floor, clearing his throat to gain her attention  ~~ as well as distract himself from the odd pang of jealousy ~~ . “I-- ah-- I see you do have a bit of a supernatural problem on your hands, milady.”

The alarm was growing on the apprentice’s face, but Nadia looked intrigued.

“Yes, I suppose ladders normally don’t collapse with such gusto,” She glanced towards the fallen ladder, then back to him. “It was like -- it was kicked. Is that right, Portia?”

“Something hit it alright. Dumb ghost.”

The room, already chilly, dropped several degrees. 

“What would you suggest we do about this, Magician Asra?”

_ Send them away. _

He shuddered, chalking it up to the cold, drawing himself up to his full, currently puny height, trying to regain some of his earlier showman’s spirit. What did he have to lose, really? They had come up here to look for clues, after all.

“Well, we magic-types know how to handle the occasional spooks and goblins, Countess.” The apprentice’s grip loosened on his arm to bury their face in their hands. “You’ve done a very good job physically cleansing the place - but might I suggest a  _ spiritual  _ cleansing? My apprentice and I can make quick work of this nasty little specter if you allow us the time and privacy.”

“ _ What the actual hell are you doing. _ ” His partner hissed.

“Privacy?” Nadia asked, nearly at the same time, allowing him to pretend he didn’t hear them.

That same odd compulsion told him to start herding them towards the door - the Countess, her servants, Portia, even the apprentice. “Yes, yes, these rituals are very tricky, and best done without interruptions -- and no offense, milady, but you’ve brought a lot of interruptions into this room.”

“Wait just a moment--”

“We’ll let you know when it’s safe to enter, of course. Don’t you worry, we’ve done this thousands of times, haven’t we?”

The doors fell shut with a grim finality, and he realized only too late he’d pushed the apprentice out into the hall with the rest of the crowd, leaving him alone in a probably haunted room, with whatever had tried to kill his sister. 

“... ah, hell.”

He moved towards the doors to rectify this, only to be suddenly shoved back, a heavy-looking and slightly battered wooden chest-of-drawers pushed up against it in his place, blocking him in. He could see the edge of claw marks in the wood.

He was now _ trapped _ alone in a definitely haunted room with whatever tried to kill his sister.

What the hell would Asra do in this situation? Should he still be thinking of that? 

Julian sucked in a breath and whirled away from the door, towards the rest of the room, though there was nothing lurking there he could see just yet. 

“Alright, ghost,” He began, Asra’s voice cracking with the strain of attempted bravado. “I am the great and powerful traveling magician commonly known as Asra, and I want you to get the hell out of this room, and this Palace. Just-- stop haunting. Go away. _ Shoo _ .”

_ … you’re not Asra. _

The voice inside his head was a bit colder this time, yet also somewhat unsure, a creature only half-convinced. It was still oddly familiar, especially now without the distraction of other voices outside his head.

A flicker of movement in one of the freshly cleaned mirrors attracted his attention, a ripple of cold silver around his current brown-skinned, fair-haired visage. He could very clearly see fear dancing on Asra’s face in the mirror, for a moment forgetting it was his.

The silver wisps in the mirror began to coalesce behind Asra, slowly becoming more opaque though he couldn’t exactly identify what shape it was forming into, definitely not human. He stood there and watched, transfixed, as its features began to fall into place, crimson eyes glowing like coals in a bestial, almost goat-like face, sinewy silver body hunched over him as if it was making sure he would be able to see all of it, easily taller than the mirror. 

Its left arm was reduced to a stump with jagged scarring across the bottom, a flash of familiarity in the clumsy handiwork, gone the moment he noted its other arm was approaching Asra’s - his -  shoulder. He felt a cold weight against his own shoulder, and the image in the mirror shifted, the creature now hunched over his normal, pale-skinned, gangly frame, onyx claws digging into his coat.

“ ** _There_** _you are, Jules._ ” The voice sighed in relief, the creature’s shoulders slumping accordingly, a huff of cold breath against his neck. “ _I thought it might be you, but the magic threw me off._ ”

“Don’t call me that,” Julian snapped without thinking, garnering laughter that sounded like rattling bones. “Who-- what are you? Do you know me? Why are you-- how are you-- are you a ghost? Or a goat? A ghoatst??”

A slight pause, brows furrowing in consternation. He remembered the flash of silver before the ladder fell.

“You were-- you tried to kill my sister.”

“ _ She shouldn’t have touched it. _ ” Animal lips twitching into a snarl, belying un-goatlike sharp teeth, a lash of a long dark tail behind it.  _ “They keep touching my things. Moving them around, throwing them out. I can’t stand it. _ ”

‘My’ things?? Surely he hadn’t heard that part right.

He reluctantly turned away from the mirror, towards the beast, half hoping he’d find nothing there. The same goatlike face gazed imperiously down at him, very much still here, though less opaque than it seemed in the mirror. 

This was not his department. He was a doctor, not a ghost hunter. Or goat hunter. If it wasn’t for the blockade, he would be halfway out of Vesuvia by now.

“Listen here, ghoatst,” He shakily reached up to pull away the broad hand still gripping his shoulder, staring at the silver fur instead of the burning eyes to gather his courage. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I may or may not have …committed a crime, that you’re currently getting in the way of me investigating right now, so if you could just--”

The hand twisted around to grab his face instead, forcing him to stare into the beast’s eyes, glowing brighter with fury and something like pain. 

“ _ I’ve waited three goddamn years in this HELL for someone to find me, I refuse to be brushed off now. Least of all by YOU. _ ”

Its grip suddenly shifted, softening into something like a caress against his cheek, and he was too dumbfounded to move away from it, shuddering from the shock of ghostly cold. “ _ I remember you. You… you don’t remember me, do you? Is it because I look like this? _ ”

“I, ah, don’t know many goat monsters, no.” Despite himself, Julian attempted a little grin.

“ _… is that what I look like to you? A monster?_ ” Its ears dropped, followed shortly by its hand, its body becoming more translucent. “ _Are you scared of me, Jules?_ ”

He was, but it was hard to remain afraid while the creature looked like it was about to start crying. Something compelled him to reach a hand up towards its face, hesitating as it flinched back, finally letting his palm rest against a furred cheek. Even through his glove, he could feel the fur was soft, cold and soft like freshly fallen snow. 

After a moment it pressed into his hand, eyes closed in simple bliss. “ _.. you're warm. _ ”

"Truth be told, I'm finding I don't remember a lot of things, and I don't get to choose what comes back." That same odd impulse led him to slowly stroke his fingers through the fur, and the sinewy form slowly began to relax, big goat head leaning harder into his hand. "It's nothing personal, I assure you."

Was it rude to pet a talking goat?? Should he have asked permission first? It didn't seem to mind. In fact it leaned further forward to keep pace with his hand when he tried to pull away.

“ _You know me. You knew me quite well. But maybe I'm being too subtle._ ” It reluctantly pulled its head back to look around the room, followed by another croak of laughter in his mind, sharp teeth bared in a crooked grin. “ _You're gonna kick yourself when you figure it out. Or maybe you've already figured it out?_ ”

The creature took a step forward, and though he had a feeling he could easily just pass through it, he automatically backed away from it, his own long and hasty strides butting him up against the wall before he realized his mistake. It towered over him like a silver shadow, a predatory glint in glowing eyes.

"Or you could just tell me," Julian said evenly, pulse beginning to flutter.

" _ No, I think you know. You don't remember, but you  _ **_know_ ** _. _ "

Before he could argue that that made no sense, silver fingers curled around his throat, slamming him further against the wall, a silver haunch shoving itself between his thighs for added stability as it suddenly lunged forward, animal jaws snapping shut around his mouth in what he realized was an attempt at a savage kiss, if only due to his current position, shivering at the little fiery pinpricks of pain dancing from his flesh to his spine. 

_ Let me jog your memory, Jules.  _ Its voice purred into his mind, despite its mouth being full. _ I've always been better at show than tell. _

His own arms came up to blindly grab at the larger one pinning him to the wall, helplessly clinging to it without enough leverage to push it aside. He realized he didn't know if he  _ wanted  _ to push it aside - it was a grip that almost perfectly balanced injury and security, just tight enough he was short of breath but not enough his vision had begun to darken, claws digging firmly in the back of his neck. It felt practiced, almost familiar, like slipping on an old worn collar made for him.

In the corner of his eye he saw the beast lurch awkwardly closer to him on its stump side, as though it expected to use it as a regular arm, a low growl of frustration in its throat. It reluctantly withdrew, but only just, the haunch tightly pressed between his legs keeping him in place. He felt the warmth of blood trickling down his cheeks, at odds with the cold tongue that slid across it.

"Wh-- what are you doing?" He gasped out, feeling a different kind of warmth thrumming through his body, unconsciously arching his hips up into the haunch, trying to increase the pressure.

" _ Figuring out some logistics, _ " His captor snorted. " _ Your own fault for that, by the way. _ "

"That's not what I-- ghk!"

The bone of the stump dug into his Adam's apple, pinning him with a more blunt and crushing chokehold to free up its functional arm. The hard pressure against his throat bore down that much harder as it returned to biting at his face, its fingers digging into his clothing, very clearly trying to wrest him out of them.

It wanted to rut. With him. It wanted to rut him. Did he want to be rutted? Did he have a choice in the matter?

If the intention wasn't clear before, it was made transparent by the broad cold hand shoving itself down the front of his pants, gripping his cock and stroking him as though it intended to rip it off, every so often switching to rolling it roughly against its own thigh pinned against him. Julian whimpered and bucked into the torture, any further sounds soon muffled by a thick icy tongue shoved down his throat. It tasted like blood, smoke and ash, the echo of a disaster.

He dug his fingers into the fur of the beast's chest, desperately hanging onto it while it continued to obliterate his cock. A dizzying cocktail of pain and pleasure swarming through him, blotting out the idea of escape, making his legs shake and his chest tighten, only kept upright by the pressure against his throat and between his thighs, leaning up into his captor's jaws.

Then without warning it released him, letting him drop to his knees on the floor, panting and shaking and burning for more, his hips still buzzing with delicious agony.

" _ Take your damn pants off, _ " The creature commanded in a low growl and a lash of its tail. He could hear the strain of need in its ghostly voice. 

The hint of movement higher than the tail drew his gaze up towards it, just in time to see a thick black animalistic cock begin to emerge from the otherwise featureless fluff between its legs. He found himself unable to look away from it, even as he slowly staggered to his feet, clumsily tugging his own pants down as ordered and nearly losing his balance, catching himself against the wall. 

Oh, that was going to hurt going in. He wasn't sure if he'd last long enough for it to fully put it inside him, let alone rut him.

Greedy fingers and onyx claws were soon at his naked hip, drawing red lines down his thigh before roughly hoisting it up around its own waist, the force of the tug nearly sending him to the floor again, that large cock pressed up against him, for the moment letting him feel the chill of it along exposed, raw flesh. It was as deathly cold as the rest of it, forcibly reminding him of its unnatural nature.

He immediately grabbed for the fur again, using it as an anchor as the cock forced its way inside him, painfully stretching him, filling him with fire and ice, something between a moan and a sob escaping him once he was fully impaled on it, shakily hauling his other leg up to join the first around the creature's waist, more firmly securing the cock inside him. The hand at his thigh moved to brace against his lower back, crushing him closer to its body, animal jaws closing around his throat as it began to thrust, deep and ruthless.

The cold kept him from falling over the edge too soon, a freezing pain rather than an inferno. He could feel the heat of blood trickling down his neck, dripping down his thighs, the uncomfortably magical burn of his curse trying to keep up with healing the damage caused by each vicious thrust, doubling the pain as freshly sealed wounds were ripped right back open. His body was numb and sensitive all at once, its fur scrubbing against his cock like rough carpet, imperfections in the wallpaper cutting into his ass like knives.

Julian whimpered and curled both trembling arms around the creature’s neck, burying his face into its fur, his thighs tightening their grip on the broad hips pushing them apart, practically clinging to it as it continued to tear him apart, faster, harder, practically slamming itself into him, rattling the furniture next to the wall. It hurt so much, too much, not enough, his vision was beginning to darken, the trembling of his body miles away.

God he was so  _ close _ .

The claws against his back sunk further in, a low growl in his mind. 

_ Say my name, Jules. Say it. _

Wild gold and manic silver flashed suddenly and vividly in his mind, an intrusion in its own right, and he realized he could see a hint of the same across the room, against the back wall, barely visible through ghostly fur.

As he came, he  _ knew _ . He couldn’t remember, but he knew.

“L-lucio..” He gasped against its throat, digging his fingers tighter into the fur.

Immediately he realized he shouldn’t have said it, even if he was commanded to. The energy of the room changed, like breaking some taboo. The creature went rigid in his grip, punishing thrusts abruptly coming to a halt.

Suddenly he was on the floor again, empty handed and emptier inside, a formless wisp of silver quickly vanishing behind the bed.

“W-wait.. I..” 

He didn’t know how to finish that thought, too focused on the agony still thrumming through him. The injuries were healing, but the pain remained, overwhelming in his sensitive state. One arm lifted, reaching towards the bed - and the world shifted, his cheek pressed against the floor before he’d fully realized he was falling over.

There was no way he would be able to get up, even to try to leave. He couldn’t move.

Distantly he could hear knocking outside the blocked doors, raised voices. People would be coming. People would see him here, as he was: Julian Devorak, wanted murderer, half naked on the floor, covered in his own blood and semen.

Fuck. Shit, damn, hell and fuck.

The last thing he saw before darkness overtook him was an approaching glimmer of hooves in the mirror.

**Author's Note:**

> it's okay, he got to the library like he was supposed to probably


End file.
